


Res Ipsa Loquitur

by megs_sp



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Law School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:16:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23678248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megs_sp/pseuds/megs_sp
Summary: The first time Miya Atsumu met Sakusa Kiyoomi he got his ass handed to him.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 74
Kudos: 452
Collections: Haikyuu14





	1. Chapter 1

_**Res Ipsa Loquitur -**_ A latin term meaning "the thing speaks for itself"; a doctrine of tort law.

**2L Spring**

* * *

The first time Miya Atsumu met Sakusa Kiyoomi he got his ass handed to him.

The weather had just started to warm up, but the courtroom their teams were competing in was downright frigid. Atsumu had downed several cups of coffee to keep himself alert for their first round, and deeply regretted it as his coach glared at him from the back of the room for twitching as Osamu gave his opening statement.

The opposing team was good – articulate and confident. They had moved smoothly enough through pre-trial motions to put Atsumu’s team on alert. A part of Atsumu was itching to get involved in the case, to attack the story the other team’s opening attorney was, admittedly masterfully, weaving. The other part – the insecure part that he buried under ten layers of charming smiles, purposeful hand movements, and clever turns of phrase – was glad he was able to ease into his first nationals by playing a witness in the first round.

He perked up as Suna retook his seat next to Osamu, and watched Kita pretend to recollect himself as the opening attorney from the other team got up to cross examine him. They had been told that this team had a good chance to win nationals, and they were certainly polished, but Atsumu didn’t see anything particularly special about the cross. It was clean and to the point, but it failed – as every cross had before it – to break Kita’s composure. Suna declined to re-direct, and then it was his turn.

He plastered on an amiable smile as Osamu called him to the witness stand, making a show of straightening his jacket as he walked up.

One of Atsumu’s strengths was reading the judges. At looking at their reactions to his answers and adjusting. Dialing back an explanation here, throwing in a sassy comment there until the judge was smiling every time he met their gaze. Another was coming across as confident without being arrogant, admittedly harder at nationals where his accent and turns of phrase didn’t endear himself to the locals like they did at regionals, but still doable.

Together they made him one of the best expert witnesses in any competition he went to. He’d been assured of this fact throughout his undergraduate mock trial career, and regionals the month before had confirmed that it would remain unchanged in law school. Osamu complained and maintained that the nationals judges would see through him, but it didn’t stop him from coming up with responses to the objections Atsumu’s testimony would inevitably draw.

Atsumu could see Osamu tensing up as they geared up to his tender, preparing to argue the objection they knew was coming. Atsumu had to force himself not to react when the dark-haired closing attorney declined to object. And again when he didn’t object to one of their more outrageous conclusions.

By the end of his direct the other attorney hadn’t objected a single time, and Atsumu was confident he’d won the expert battle the case packet had set up. When Osamu sat down the dark-haired attorney took a long moment to glance over his notes, before standing up and looking at Atsumu for the first time that trial.

He was so pretty Atsumu missed his first question. He laughed it off, apologizing, and forced himself to stare at a point behind the other man’s head instead of his doe eyes, artfully styled hair, or absolutely adorable moles just above his eyebrow. The question came slowly and evenly, in a neutral tone.

Atsumu relaxed into the first few questions, recognizing the soft balls for what they were. When the trap closed around him he just stared at the calm attorney who had just taken the loose ends from his direct and strangled him with them. He tried to brush it off, started to explain it away and realized he’d dug himself deeper into the hole when he saw Osamu’s wide eyes and the small uptick of the other attorney’s lips.

Osamu asked to re-direct. He never asked for a re-direct. He never needed to re-direct. Re-direct was for cleaning up the damage caused on cross, and Atsumu never let there be damage to clean up.

Atsumu sat back down at counsel table feeling like he’d been sucker-punched. He stared blankly at his notepad as Osamu rested their case and the infuriatingly good crossing attorney made a Rule 50 motion so well-reasoned the judge looked like he might forget himself and actually grant it.

When they got up for a small recess Osamu was so stunned he didn’t even whisper-yell like he usually did.

“What the actual fuck was that?” Atsumu shrugged, not trusting himself to speak. Kita rejoined them at their table, handing out water bottles.

“Was he on their team last year?”

Kita shook his head, “Not as far as I know. I think he’s a 2L.”

Osamu furrowed his brow as he took a sip of his water, “I don’t remember him from undergrad. His team might not have made it to nationals.”

“Or he could’ve started in law school.”

Atsumu shot Kita a disbelieving look and broke his silence, “If he started in law school I’m quitting right now because that much talent is not fair.”

Kita shrugged, unfazed. “Maybe he’s not a good closer.”

He was a very good closer. Logical and persuasive without any of the dramatics or flashy performance Atsumu favored. Thankfully for his ego he wasn’t the best Atsumu had ever seen, and he thought he could definitely beat him if they went head to head, but the other man was good enough to put their chances of winning the round six feet underground.

One day later and a check-in with their coach revealed that Sakusa Kiyoomi and his team had swept all ballots in their round, from which there was little to no chance of recovery. Atsumu and his team packed their bags without making the break, and he comforted himself with knowing that Sakusa’s team had lost in the semifinals.

**3L Fall**

* * *

The next time Miya Atsumu sees Sakusa Kiyoomi they are not competing.

Atsumu’s school is hosting the Tournament of Champions, meaning that their team cannot compete. Instead, they’re stuck keeping time and running the tab room under their coach’s stern gaze.

Atsumu rushes into the tab room to get his room assignment two minutes before the 8:30am start time, a McDonald’s hash brown crammed in his mouth and three large ice coffees balanced in his arms. He stretches over the table to hand Suna his coffee and in the process squeezes the cup cradled in the crook of his arm slightly too hard. The lid pops off and his slightly wrinkled dress shirt is doused in sugary caffeine.

By the time Suna and Osamu are done laughing over his misfortune he is two minutes late and his shirt is clinging wetly to his chest. He debates trying to cover it up with his suit jacket but decides the risk to the more expensive fabric isn’t worth it and accepts his fate.

Thankfully the judges meeting has run long and the bench is empty when Atsumu takes his place. He takes a sip of his half-empty coffee and has stuffed the rest of his slightly cold hash brown in his mouth when he glances up at the teams and makes eye contact with Sakusa Kiyoomi.

His first thought is that Sakusa has somehow become even more attractive in the last six months. The second is that the courtroom they are in, like all courtrooms, is absolutely freezing and you can probably see his nipples through his wet shirt. Sakusa raises an eyebrow while his co-counsel giggles softly and Atsumu glares until the judge finally comes in and they have to break eye contact.

Sakusa has gotten even better, his closings starting to gain some of the passion that earns nines and tens instead of sevens and eights, and his crosses are all perfect tens. Atsumu rants to his team about it over beer every night of the tournament and avoids Sakusa when he sees him in the halls.

He doesn’t want to talk to him until he has redeemed himself and thoroughly crushed the other man.

(And he can get a word out without either insulting his trial skills or propositioning him)

**3L Spring**

* * *

Atsumu’s team makes the break.

It’s announced at a banquet Suna has dubbed “the most awkward cocktail party in existence”, where nobody actually eats the horrible food, and instead sips at a drink before escaping to the nearest fast food place as soon as the placements are announced. Atsumu does not see Sakusa at the banquet.

He sees him at the Wendy’s next to the hotel while he and Osamu are competing to see who can fit the most fries in their mouth at once. Atsumu is still in his suit, which is in danger of getting ketchup dripped onto it at any moment, while Sakusa’s team has changed into comfier clothes. Atsumu thinks it is incredibly unfair that the dark-haired man manages to look even more attractive in sweats and a faded t-shirt than he does in a tailored suit. The ketchup does drip onto his shirt while Atsumu stares at the way the shirt stretches across Sakusa’s chest.

Sakusa gets into line to order and Atsumu makes a strategic retreat before any more of his clothes get ruined.

He sees Sakusa again the next morning. This time they are both wearing suits – Atsumu’s neatly pressed this time – and are both attorneys.

Osamu is much more careful than Atsumu on the witness stand and plays a convincing defendant. He gives Sakusa less to work with, and keeps it close enough that Atsumu can pull their case together in his closing,

Sakusa’s closing scores better, but Atsumu’s team wins three of the five ballots and moves on to the semifinals. After the judge has finished comments Atsumu straightens his suit and marches to where Sakusa is packing up their trial box. He forgets his carefully practiced speech – that he definitely didn’t practice more than his actual closing – for a moment when he meets the other man’s eyes, but muscle memory kicks in.

“Hey, your closings are getting really good.” He sticks his hand out.

Sakusa’s mouth twists and he quirks an eyebrow. He studies Atsumu for a long moment before nodding once, pointedly ignoring his outstretched hand. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself on the stand this time.”

Atsumu can feel a blush creeping up his neck, and he knows he should reign back his temper and be polite, but “Wow, you’re an asshole.” He can’t.

Sakusa raises both eyebrows and huffs out a laugh. He fishes a face mask out of one of the inner pockets of his suit jacket and slips it on. His voice is slightly muffled when he responds. “Good luck, scumbag.” Then he grabs his trial box and walks out, leaving Atsumu to stew.

They lose in the finals.

**Five Years Later**

* * *

Miya Atsumu thought that nationals would be the last time he ever saw Sakusa Kiyoomi.

They went to law schools on opposite ends of the country, only brought to the same area by trial competitions. Atsumu took a job at a large corporate firm on their litigation team straight out of law school. Sakusa went to work at the State Attorney’s Office – which Atsumu definitely didn’t find out by stalking Sakusa’s teammates’ social media through Osamu’s account. There was absolutely no reason to believe they would ever encounter one another again.

Which is why when Atsumu came into work one morning and found Sakusa setting up in the office next to his he decided to lock himself in his office with the blinds drawn and call Osamu in a blind panic.

“I’m going to have to quit my job, ‘Samu.”

“Don’t do that. Who’ll pay my student loans?” Atsumu frantically lowers the volume on his phone, moving as far away from the wall he now – god forbid – shares with Sakusa, as he can get.

“You got a full-ride scholarship, dumbass. It’s not my fault you decided to open a restaurant instead of actually making money.” He furiously whispers into the receiver.

“I’m hanging up.”

“No, wait. Sakusa’s here.”

“Sakusa. Like the star of your wet dreams, Sakusa?”

Atsumu regrets ever telling Osamu that he found Sakusa attractive. “Like my mortal enemy, Sakusa.”

“Right, and he’s where?”

“In the office next to mine.” By now Atsumu has scrolled through his email and confirmed that the vacant position on the litigation team has been filled.

“Okay? So wait in your office until he leaves.”

“He’s not here for a meeting. I think he works here now.” Atsumu frowned at his phone as Osamu burst into laughter. “You got it all out now?”

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“First, I’m telling Suna you said that. Second, you can shove an onigiri up your ass, you douche.”

“This is what you get for selling your soul to big law. Let me know if you manage to talk to him without insulting him.” Osamu hung up before Atsumu could respond.

Atsumu busies himself with the urgent paperwork sitting on top of his desk, making calls to a few clients, clearing out his inbox, and organizing his desk drawers until he has run out of things he can do without leaving his office. He’s contemplating making a dash to the coffee machine when there’s a soft knock on his office door.

He calls for them to come in, hurriedly grabbing a pen and starting to doodle on the nearest legal pad in an attempt to seem busy.

Samson Foster pokes his head through the door first and waves before moving fully into the office. He bypasses the expensive leather chairs sitting on the other side of his desk – the ones the firm had provided when he moved into the office – in favor of the couch he had jammed into the corner of the room. It had been secondhand when Osamu found it for their shared apartment their 1L year, and eight years later the faded upholstery, complete with a seventy’s print and several questionable stains, looked distinctly out of place. Atsumu had brought the couch with him to his new job, insisting to Osamu that it added character to his new office. A choice he was now regretting as he watched the senior partner settle into the old behemoth.

“Mr. Foster, what can I do for you?”

The older man laughed jovially and waved him off. “How many times have I told you to call me Samson? Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you met our new hire. He’s going to be working on the litigation team with you so I put him next door. Figured you could help him get acquainted with the office.”

Atsumu swallowed down his grimace and plastered on a wide grin – the one he reserved for clients that refused to take his advice and interns that thought they were above basic research because they went to a prestigious school. “Of course! I was actually just going to invite them to lunch with me.”

Samson clapped his hands and tried to extract himself from the couch. “Wonderful! I’m sure you’ll get along great.” He finally dragged himself from the sofa’s clutches and slipped out of Atsumu’s office.

He dropped his head in his hands and groaned before straightening back up and checking his appearance in his phone camera.

He straightened his hair and checked to make sure nothing had spilled on his dress shirt. He fiddled with his tie before deciding to leave it slightly loose and grabbed the blazer he kept hanging behind his door. Before he could talk himself out of it he marched to the office next door and knocked briskly.

He stared at the shiny new name plate, which he had failed to register was there for the past two weeks, until Sakusa’s voice called for him to come in.

Sakusa had been at the firm for less than a morning and his office was already more put together than Atsumu’s. He had replaced the standard issue leather client chairs with a pair of plush armchairs Atsumu wanted to sink into. His diplomas and bar certifications were hung neatly in a sleek gallery wall along with a few framed photographs and obligatory lawyer quotes. A new lamp sat in the corner, giving off a warm comforting glow, in contrast to the neon fluorescent lights all the offices cam with. Sakusa’s desk was neat and orderly, a minimalist pen cup and desk calendar arranged in the corner next to an industrial sized pump bottle of hand sanitizer. Atsumu could see a wax melter perched on one of the bookshelves, but it wasn’t quite able to cover up the sharp scent of heavy cleaners that permeated the room.

Sakusa was in the process of cleaning off his computer when Atsumu came in, running a Lysol wipe across his monitor and keyboard, taking care to scrub in between each of the keys. He finished by wiping off the mouse and tossing the wipe into an already overflowing trash can next to his desk.

He seemed slightly startled when he saw Atsumu hovering awkwardly in the doorway, but quickly schooled his features into an impassive mask.

“Miya. Is there something I can do for you?”

“You can stop calling me Miya.” Sakusa raised an eyebrow and Atsumu scrambled to recover. “I mean, call me Atsumu, everybody does. After all, we’re co-workers now, right Omi?”

Sakusa’s eye twitched and his lips twisted in a familiar scowl. “I would prefer if you didn’t call me that.”

Atsumu grinned, settling into a familiar groove. “But Omi, everybody has a nickname here. And besides, we’re old friends.”

Sakusa scoffed. “Is that what we are?”

“Yep!” Atsumu sank into one of the armchairs and was pleased to find they were as comfortable as they looked. He had a feeling he would be spending a lot of time in them. “We go way back.”

“You called me an asshole.”

“And it’s true! But I love you anyways Omi.” Atsumu gave him his brightest smile, the one he used on clerks and legal assistants he needed to stay in the good graces of. “That’s why I’m taking you out to lunch. Aren’t I the nicest?”

Sakusa scowled and leaned back in his desk chair. “You are without a doubt, the most unpleasant person I have met in this office yet.”

Atsumu winked and tried not to focus on Sakusa’s curls and how they might look after he ran his hands through them. “Then you haven’t met the employment division yet. I’ll introduce you after lunch, Omi.”

Sakusa bit his lip and dear god Atsumu was going to have dreams about it. “I’m not going to get out of this, am I?”

“Glad you accepted your fate Omi-Omi. Now come on, I know this great onigiri place.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miya Atsumu is an asshole, Komori is a horrible best friend, and Sakusa definitely does not like his co-worker.

Sakusa Kiyoomi knew Miya Atsumu was trouble from the first moment he saw him.

The trial hadn't even started yet and he was already charming the room. Complimenting the timekeeper as he passed her on his way to his seat, winking at his teammates, and striking up a conversation with the other witnesses sitting in the jury box as they waited for the judge.

As the trial progressed it became clear that Miya Atsumu was everything Sakusa hated to cross examine – friendly, confident, and too likeable for Sakusa to come out of the gate aggressive.

And completely Sakusa’s type.

It was well acknowledged within his – admittedly small – friend circle that Sakusa Kiyoomi had horrible taste in men.

His longest relationship had been with an agricultural studies major who brought him organic fruit from his grandparent’s farm and cooked him healthy dinners. It had lasted right up until he showed up after one of his practical classes without showering first and Sakusa discovered how much dirt was actually involved.

They had tried to make it work, but Sakusa couldn’t stomach the thought of touching him even after he’d taken three showers. After that they had mutually agreed to break up. Sakusa didn’t think he had been an asshole, but Komori had insisted throughout the relationship that he was emotionally unavailable and that Sakusa could do better – Komori always thought Sakusa could do better – and so “farmer boy” always got included in the List of Assholes.

The boyfriend before that had lasted all of three weeks before he got tired of brushing his teeth every time he wanted a kiss. That didn’t make him an asshole, Sakusa could begrudgingly admit, but declaring him certifiable and pegging a toothbrush at his face did.

What came before that was a series of first dates and one-night stands Sakusa tried very hard to erase from his memory. Komori, wonderful best friend that he was, refused to let him.

All that is to say, Sakusa was not looking forward to finding out what type of asshole Miya Atsumu turned out to be.

“He’s an annoying, passive aggressive, name-calling asshole.” Sakusa scrubbed harder at the stain on his new kitchen counter, wondering for the fifth time since he came home if it was worth going back out again to get more bleach.

“So you’ve said. Any particular reason why?” Sakusa glared at his phone.

“I can feel you glaring at me.”

Sakusa contemplating throwing his phone in the bucket of soapy water but reigned himself in and continued scrubbing instead. “You know why. He’s the same asshole who decided to insult my closing the first time he talked to me, except this time he’s working next door and decided to give me some ridiculous nickname.”

“To be fair, you did insult him too.”

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but last time I checked you were my best friend.”

Komori’s laugh echoed in his, still mostly empty, kitchen. “Is he still hot?”

Sakusa wished he and Komori still lived in the same apartment complex if only so he could pelt the other man with the sponge. He let out a frustrated whine and pushed a stray curl out of his face.

“That’s a yes.”

Atsumu is undoubtedly an asshole.

He insists on calling Sakusa by a nickname, completely ignoring any requests to stop, instead escalating the absurdity with each passing day. He takes great joy in pointing out Sakusa’s mistakes and teases him for everything under the sun. This includes, but is not limited to: his preference for tea over coffee, the fact that he still winces when Bokuto careens past their offices during his victory laps after the senior associate settles a big case, and that Hinata has proclaimed him his “hire buddy” and insists on giving Sakusa air hugs at least once a week.

Worst of all he has somehow managed to befriend Komori, which had led to his supposed best friend breaking the sacred trust forged between section mates seated next to each other during torts 1L year and providing his co-worker with pictures. From finals week.

Atsumu’s favorite is a candid shot Komori had snapped about ten minutes before their civil procedure final. Sakusa had been running on two hours of sleep and the most caffeinated tea he could find. He’d pulled on an old volleyball t-shirt and sweats from high school that morning because he hadn’t done laundry in three weeks and had pinned his hair back in clips. In the picture he was in the process of shoving an entire chicken mini into his mouth while he stared dead eyed at his outline. Sakusa had allowed the picture to survive on the assumption that only god and his soon to be ex-best friend would see it.

Atsumu had decided to finally decorate his office walls, taking Komori’s pictures and putting them in sleek matching frames of dark wood. The finals week picture had been enlarged and put in a place of honor in the center of the wall where Atsumu’s diploma had once hung. (It was to be noted that Atsumu’s diploma was shoved into a poster frame he got on clearance at Michael’s)

Admittedly Sakusa had been an asshole right back.

The week after the photo incident he used his kindness quota for the month sucking up to Miya Osamu for revenge. He was decidedly put out when he realized Osamu would have helped him without the horrifying small talk if he had only told him the goal was to embarrass Atsumu from the get-go.

He got over it quickly though, because Osamu had provided several pictures, including one of Atsumu from their 8am lecture the morning after Halloween bar review their 1L year, temporary dye still smeared in his hair and a heart drawn in smudged eyeliner below his eye (he had apparently gone as Harley Quinn). This was accompanied by a video, clearly taken from underneath a desk, of Atsumu’s phone going off and the professor forcing him to stand up and sing the Barney theme song.

Sakusa had placed these in an electronic frame, along with several baby pictures and snapchats from the first time Atsumu tried to bleach his hair and ended up looking like a carrot. The frame then went on the wall in the breakroom, just above Atsumu’s favorite coffee machine.

So they were both assholes. But Atsumu had proven to be surprisingly considerate in all the ways that counted.

For all that he made fun of Sakusa’s drink choices, he always returned from the break room with his coffee and a cup of hot water in a freshly cleaned mug for him to make his tea with. And the day after he had first experienced Bokuto’s victory laps Atsumu had dropped off a package of disposable ear plugs.

He had bought a bottle of Sakusa’s preferred hand sanitizer to keep on his desk and started keeping a pack of Lysol wipes on hand for him to wipe down the leather chairs. He always asked if Sakusa wanted to join him for lunch or dinner, or whatever other social outing the litigation team decided on, and never pushed when Sakusa truly said no – Atsumu somehow knew, even when no one else did, when his no’s were truly no’s and not just for show.

And he never complained about Sakusa’s quirks. Even when he had to spend extra money on cleaning supplies, or avoid a specific restaurant, or go out of his way to accommodate the little habits most people never even noticed, let alone cared to indulge.

Like the time he walked to the courthouse just to bring Sakusa a spare face mask. Or brought in new squares for his wax melter the morning after he ran out.

Or rescheduled a meeting and filled in for Sakusa at a deposition over his lunch hour on two minutes notice because the witness came in with a cold and the thought of being in the same conference room made Sakusa’s chest tighten and his hands shake.

Sakusa Kiyoomi realizes he’s well and truly done for four months after he starts at MSBY.

He’s going to trial for the first time at his new job, and he’s been pulling all-nighters all week to prepare. Jury selection had made him nervous – there were several jurors whose answers he did not like, but they’d been closing out their second day of voir dire and he’d ran out of preemptory strikes.

They start the trial tomorrow and he’s been running his opening since 11am, skipping lunch and dinner in favor of repeating it over and over and over and over. Atsumu had been at the courthouse all day for his own trial, but he had popped into the office at around 6pm to announce that he’d won and was planning on eating an entire pizza before sleeping for ten hours straight to celebrate. Sakusa had poked his head out of his office to mumble something congratulatory before returning to running his opening. Atsumu had peered through the crack in the door, but hadn’t come in. Sakusa could hear the rest of the office slowly filing out, and the light seeping in around the door grew dimmer as his legal assistant turned off her office light and left.

At 7:30pm his door opens and Atsumu creeps into the room in casual clothes, carrying a takeout bag from the Mediterranean place next to the courthouse that Sakusa loves – a place that he knows for a fact is in the opposite direction of Atsumu’s house from the office.

“I brought you some dinner Omi-kun!” He threw himself down on his preferred armchair, settling in with a sigh. “I -uh- also brought you a change of clothes. In case ‘ya, ‘ya know, wanted something more comfortable. They’re clean, I washed ‘em twice.” He held up a canvas tote bag sheepishly.

Sakusa took it and peered inside, making out a pair of soft-looking grey sweats and a black t-shirt. He cautiously sniffed at the bag and was slightly surprised to find that it smelled strongly of lavender – presumably Atsumu’s laundry detergent. They were neatly folded into the bag, and Sakusa could see a couple of dryer sheets pressed in between the folds of the clothes to keep them fresh.

He hesitated for a moment, his mind starting to race as he considered the germs that he could potentially be exposed to. But it was getting late, he was tired, his normally comfortable dress shirt was starting to feel like it was suffocating him, and Atsumu had proven himself to be capable of upholding his standards of cleanliness. He was surprised to find that he trusted Atsumu. He wasn’t quite sure when that had happened, when he had stopped double-checking that Atsumu had wiped the armchair down thoroughly and re-doing it himself.

Regardless, Sakusa nodded slightly and slipped into the bathroom down the hall to change. The clothes fit well enough; the sweatpants were a tad too short, but the t-shirt was loose and comfortable, and the lavender smell of Atsumu’s detergent was soft enough to be pleasant instead of grating.

Sakusa slipped back into his office to find Atsumu’s combing through his notes, mumbling softly to himself and occasionally scribbling out a note on a post-it and sticking it to the outline.

“You’re not going to try and convince me to go home and rest? Everybody else has.”

Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “Why? So you can practice all night alone in your apartment instead? We both know ‘ya won’t put it down, so I might as well keep ya company and fix yer opening.”

Sakusa knew he should be annoyed at the jab at his opening. He knew he should respond like usual. Make a quip about Atsumu’s flashy closings or his over-complicated metaphors. But sitting there in his office, wearing Atsumu’s clothes as the other man wipes down the Styrofoam take out containers before setting them on the desk, Sakusa realizes he’s completely gone for Miya Atsumu.

For a brief moment of insanity he considers telling him.

Atsumu is grinning at him, and the warm light from his favorite lamp makes it seem softer than usual. It’s probably just Sakusa’s wishful thinking that it seems fond. The smile fades slightly and he realizes he’s taken too long to respond.

His new-found realization has scattered his thoughts and he can’t seem to grasp something witty to say.

“Thanks for the clothes.” Is what he says instead.

Atsumu winks at him.

He is so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope everyone is staying safe.
> 
> I am supposed to be studying for finals so I can actually be a lawyer, but I've gone down the rabbit hole and instead of a bus orgs outline I have like five pages of notes on what type of lawyer each hq character would be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miya Atsumu didn't expect to come out of this situation with a boyfriend. Buried six feet underground in a million pieces? Yes. In a relationship? No.

It became a habit for them to spend the night before a trial started at the office – eating takeout and running material in their sweats.

Sometimes other members of the litigation team joined, other nights it was just the two of them.

The first time someone else had joined their tradition Atsumu had been slightly annoyed. But it was Hinata and he was the one-coworker he just couldn’t bring himself to kick out. He waited for Sakusa to do it, but somehow his “hire buddy” had wormed his way into the taller attorney’s good graces. Sakusa had just shrugged and told Hinata he needed to bring clean clothes and slippers if he wanted to stay in his office for extended periods of time.

Atsumu had pouted for a minute, but Hinata’s cheer was truly infectious and the case had several complex evidentiary issues the other attorney had proved invaluable in solving.

Atsumu fondly remembered the first time he ever encountered Hinata. It had been during nationals his 3L year, in the second round. Hinata had been completely new to trial then, relying heavily on his co-counsel Kageyama to help him with the more technical aspects. But his lack of experience with the rules of evidence had caught up to him during an important objection battle, and no amount of god cheer could make up for the way he’d frozen. Hinata’s team had managed to pull out the win by a narrow margin – his teammates were superb witnesses and were able to make do without the exhibit – but the bubbly attorney had been subdued when they talked afterwards.

Hinata had apparently made it his personal mission in the meantime to become a walking encyclopedia on the rules of evidence. His ability to regurgitate entire obscure hearsay exceptions word for word along with notes from the comments was, frankly, scary. But that obscure hearsay exception had worked in Atsumu’s evidentiary hearing the next morning and Hinata got an open invitation to their “trial eve cramming sessions”.

Bokuto had christened them as such the first time he joined them. Sakusa worked primarily in the niche area of white-collar crime, but one of his clients had insisted he take on his company’s product liability case, and so their resident specialist in the field was called in to their next session.

“You gotta make it about the law.” Bokuto had explained, sprawled across the couch in Atsumu’s office and attempting to eat a piece of pizza while lying down and giving Sakusa advice. “Like obviously be sympathetic, its tragic that this happened, but don’t let the other dude paint you as the villain. As soon as he manages to make it poor, injured plaintiff versus asshole greedy corporation you’re dead in the water.”

Sakusa had nodded and diligently scribbled the notes down, grimacing when a piece of pepperoni fell onto Bokuto’s face with a greasy ‘splat’. Bokuto had kept going, ignoring Sakusa’s affronted look when he picked the pepperoni off his cheek and popped it in his mount. “Don’t let that bleeding-heart plaintiff’s attorney get one over on you.”

This he had directed teasingly at Hinata – who primarily worked with plaintiffs in high profile employment discrimination cases. The short attorney had looked up from the file he was simultaneously reviewing and using as a plate, sticking out his tongue.

After the first time Hinata had joined them they started using Atsumu’s office whenever it was more than just the two of them. They always dragged in one of Sakusa’s armchairs and a folding table from the breakroom, but inevitably food got dropped on something and it was better for everybody if it happened in Atsumu’s office instead of Sakusa’s.

Hinata’s phone had then cawed loudly, causing him to dive for it and knock over his pizza in the process. Yes, Atsumu had thought, it was better happened in his office. But he was strongly considering billing Hinata and Bokuto for his carpet cleaning bill.

“And how is Kageyama.” Sakusa had asked, leveling Hinata with a knowing look.

He had looked up from his phone sheepishly. “Venting.” The phone cawed rapidly to emphasize his point. “They assigned him to this oil and gas case he didn’t really want and now Ushijima won’t talk to him.”

“I think Kita mentioned that one.” His old trial teammate had gone on to work for the EPA and considered attorneys who defended oil and gas companies the scum of the earth. ‘Mentioning’ really meant cursing a lot of people and their ancestors, in Kita’s own way, and he imagined that as a fellow environmental law specialist Ushijima wasn’t too thrilled with it either. “Anyway, isn’t the whole not talking thing kinda his MO?”

Hinata nodded thoughtfully. “I guess so.” He frowned, “But he’s stopped bringing us stuff from his garden and its strawberry season soon!”

Sakusa had ended up winning his case, Kageyama lost his, and Hinata brought a large basket of strawberries to their next session.

Sometimes Osamu stopped by with onigiri and ended up staying. He wasn’t allowed to look at any of the files or help with their cases, so those nights usually devolved into telling stories from their law school days. They were usually fairly tame, until the night Suna had shown up with Osamu and, because both of them hated Atsumu, decided to reenact his and Sakusa’s first interactions.

“So there he is,” Osamu was saying to an enraptured Hinata and Bokuto, “drenched in coffee and staring at Sakusa like he killed our dog – “

“Yer allergic to dogs Samu.”

“Whatever, Sumu. And so he’s standing there with this dumb look on his face, and I get this text in the back of the room. And it says, I shit ya not, ‘are my nipples showing?’”

Atsumu mumbled an excuse about getting more coffee while Hinata and Bokuto howled with laughter and escaped to the breakroom. He glared at the picture of him drooling on his property textbook currently on the electronic frame, and almost spilled his coffee all over Sakusa when he turned around.

Sakusa reached out and steadied the mug, taking care to only touch the porcelain. “Careful. I don’t have another shirt and I would hate to spend the rest of the night with my nipples showing.”

Damn Osamu. Damn him and his smartass boyfriend to hell. He had managed to go almost a year working with Sakusa without bringing up their meetings during law school and was desperately hoping that he had forgotten about them. Not that he actually thought Sakusa was capable of forgetting anything, the man had a memory like a steel-trap and was detail-oriented to the extreme. But he seemed to have chosen to ignore the elephant in the room up until that point and it made Atsumu feel better to think he had forgotten it.

Inside he felt like crawling into a dark corner of the office and dying, but Sakusa was looking at him expectantly.

So he bluffed. “It’s a hard look to pull off. Not everyone can look good in everything like me.” He winked and gave Sakusa an exaggerated smolder while lifting up his t-shirt to flash his abs.

Sakusa blinked incredulously before bursting into peals of laughter. He had a nice laugh, Atsumu noted dazedly, slightly nasal and surprisingly infectious. He had seen the other man laugh before of course, but he had always muffled them with his hand. They were never this unrestrained, head thrown back and eyes closed.

He had dimples. Dear god, he had dimples.

Atsumu was still staring at him blankly when Sakusa recovered and grabbed his tea from the counter. He stopped at the doorway on his way out, turning back slightly to look at Atsumu. “Don’t worry about back then. We all enjoyed the view.” Then he left.

Atsumu’s coffee was cold by the time he returned to his office.

It was during one of these sessions that Miya Atsumu confessed to Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Bokuto had a date with Akaashi and Hinata had promised Kageyama he’d go to the movies with him (he insisted it was a roommate tradition, and everyone in the office had long given up on trying to convince him Kageyama was asking him out), so it was just the two of them.

They had just changed into their sweats and settled into Sakusa’s office and were in the process of deciding what to order. Atsumu was usually content to go along with whatever Sakusa wanted, but he had been craving Thai food all week and wasn’t willing to back down.

“We can order from that fusion place if you don’t want just Thai food.” Sakusa looked up from under his bangs. Atsumu noted absently that his hair was getting a bit long, the other man had been shoving it out of his face with increasing irritation the past couple of weeks. Instead of replying Sakusa shrugged and started rooting around in his desk.

Taking it as approval Atsumu opened up his laptop to pull up the menu, scrolling through it a few times before looking back up.

“What do ya – um.” Sakusa looked up questioningly and without his hair in the way his eyes were huge. He’d gathered up his bangs and pinned them back with little clips. It looked just like the photo Atsumu had hanging on his wall and he could feel his heart skip a beat when the other man tilted his head curiously.

“What?” Sakusa was still looking at him and dear god his eyelashes were long.

“You’re so cute.” He did not mean to say that.

Sakusa’s eyes widened, making them bigger and rounder and even more doe like without his hair in the way to conceal them. Atsumu scrambled for something to say, to take it back before he complicated their relationship and he lost the person that had quickly become one of his most cherished friends.

“I like you.” Atsumu was an idiot. Why the hell did he say that.

It was an odd thing to see Sakusa Kiyoomi speechless. He opened his mouth and closed it again. After a few long moments he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and bit at it. Atsumu tried desperately not to stare at it.

“Why?”

He knew his role. Knew what to say to get them back to normal. A teasing quip about not knowing either, and wasn’t Omi so thankful he had chosen to grace him with his friendship. But Sakusa was still staring at him with those _eyes_. And his face was softer than it normally was. He looked…vulnerable.

Atsumu stopped the teasing words on the tip of his tongue and thought for a minute. Why did he like Kiyoomi? He was serious, and unyielding, and particular about pretty much everything. All traits that should have – and had before – sent Atsumu running for the hills. But he was also considerate, and sweet, with a bone-dry sense of humor that had Atsumu rolling on the floor with laughter at least once a week and a smile so dazzling it made the work to earn one worth it. He could write for hours and fill up an entire legal pad of reasons why he liked Kiyoomi. But –

“Res ipsa loquitur.”

Sakusa’s face twisted in disbelief and then his brows furrowed. He scowled and opened his mouth to respond.

Atsumu cut him off, “The thing speaks for itself.”

Sakusa’s expression became exasperated. “I do know what it means. I did, in fact, have to take torts like everyone else.”

Atsumu then remembered Komori mentioning that torts had proven to be the one subject in law school that Sakusa did not excel at, and he accordingly despised it with a passion. Maybe it hadn’t been the best expression to use.

“I know ya do. Look – what I’m trying to say is – I like ya. It’s – it’s per se. A presumption. Res ipsa loquitur. I like ya because yer you, and that’s reason enough. It speaks for itself.”

The metaphor was spiraling out of control and Atsumu could feel his face growing hot. Sakusa’s eyebrows were raised so high they might as well have receded into his hairline.

“A presumption?” He asked.

Atsumu nodded.

“A presumption can be rebutted.”

Atsumu’s face took on a mulish expression. “Not this one.”

Sakusa laughed incredulously. “Then its not res ipsa loquitur.”

Atsumu threw his hands up in defeat. “It was a bad metaphor. Okay? I like you. I’m going home. We can explore the nuances of torts doctrine tomorrow.” He grabbed his bag and moved to leave. He could feel the beginning of tears starting to sting his eyes, and god, when had he gotten in this deep?

“Atsumu.” Sakusa grabbed his hand. His grip was light, but Atsumu could feel how soft his skin was. “Please don’t – can’t we just – I like you too.”

Atsumu turned back to him in disbelief, letting his bad drop to the floor with a dull thud. Sakusa’s eyes were firmly fixed on his feet, and a hint of a blush was starting to creep up his neck. Atsumu slowly reached up and grasped Sakusa’s hand in both of his. When the other man didn’t move to pull it away he started to rub the skin briskly. “Yer skin is ice cold.”

Sakusa’s eyes snapped to his and he frowned. “We can’t all be space heaters.”

Atsumu chuckled. “Then I guess I’ll just have to be yers.”

Sakusa allowed him to rub at his hand until it was pleasantly warm and the silence had stretched to the point of being uncomfortable. Then he gently pulled it away. Atsumu retrieved a small bottle of hand sanitizer from the pocket of his sweats and silently offered it. Sakusa shook his head, “I think I should probably get used to holding hands with my boyfriend.”

He had to be dreaming. He could feel the grin stretching across his face, and it was so wide it was starting to hurt his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop. He offered his hand back to Saku – Kiyo – _his boyfriend._ Now that he had confirmation he couldn’t help himself. “Is that what we are, Omi? Better be careful or people will think you like me.”

His boyfriend – dear god he was never going to get tired of that – rolled his eyes. “Keep it up and I’ll take it back.” But he allowed Atsumu to take his hand and pull him closer. He wanted to put his other on the taller man’s waist, but he was pretty sure that - boyfriend or not – Kiyoomi wouldn’t hesitate to deck him.

Sakusa was starting to look uncomfortable with how intensely Atsumu was beaming at him and tugged at their joined hands. “Aren’t you supposed to buy me dinner or something, dumbass?”

Atsumu made a grand gesture towards the door and motioned for Sakusa to go first. “Whatever my darling boyfriend wants. After you?”

Sakusa rolled his eyes and looked pointedly at Atsumu’s laptop where the takeout menu was still pulled up. Right – Thai food.

“I’m going to grab some tea. Order for me.” He hesitated, glancing down at their hands. He gently extracted his from Atsumu’s grip. He met his gaze and narrowed his eyes. “I hope for your sake you washed your face.”

Wash his face? What the hell did that even me-.

Then Sakusa kissed his cheek and rushed out the door.

Atsumu felt like a puppet with its strings cut. He collapsed into the nearest armchair and stared unseeing at his laptop screen. Sakusa Kiyoomi was his boyfriend. _Sakusa Kiyoomi was his boyfriend._

Atsumu frowned.

Osamu was going to be unbearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sakusa is me. I hate torts. The entire subject can burn in hell.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto Kotaro was not as oblivious as his co-workers believed.

Bokuto Kotaro was not as oblivious as his co-workers believed.

It was a little insulting, actually, the things they thought he didn’t notice. He hadn’t built a reputation for excellence in the courtroom without the ability to read people. He was phenomenal in jury trials, and he more than anyone knew jury trials started with jury selection. Some lawyers neglected voir dire, didn’t bother to pay attention to the little details – the body language of the potential jurors as they responded to each question – but those lawyers didn’t become one of the biggest products liability specialists in the country.

All that is to say Bokuto was actually extremely observant. Sure, it took him two painful years to figure out his crush on the cute clerk that corrected his paperwork and reminded him about filing deadlines wasn’t so unrequited. But he and Akaashi had gotten together eventually and that was an outlier anyways – everyone knew your own love life didn’t count.

The point was Sakusa and Atsumu were not subtle. And Bokuto was really tired of pretending he didn’t know about them.

Akaashi said the right thing to do was to continue to pretend and let them tell everyone at their pace. But their pace was slower than a tortoise and he’d been waiting to gift them a congratulatory blender for months – ever since he noticed that Sakusa and Atsumu’s keys looked suspiciously similar and they started walking the same direction away from the office instead of opposite ones. It was starting to take up a lot of space in his closet.

So Bokuto recruited Hinata, who recruited Kageyama, who had enlisted his entire office to help him stage an intervention. Granted, Hinata didn’t know that’s what he was doing – he though he was organizing a trial team reunion. He hadn’t really questioned why Bokuto had wanted a reunion when none of them were on the same team, but that was Hinata for you.

Kageyama hadn’t figured it out either, but Bokuto had tried about twenty subtle, ten not-so-subtle, and five blaring-sirens-in-your-face schemes to get the two idiots to realize they were in love with each other and they still weren’t together. So he hadn’t really expected much.

Ushijima, however, definitely knew something was up. He had glowered silently for longer than usual during their weekly after calendar call coffee, but he seemed content to let Bokuto continue.

Kenma, on the other hand, had taken one look at his face when he stopped by the Clerk’s office to file an answer and told him in no uncertain terms that he wanted nothing to do with Bokuto’s “idiotic attempts at playing cupid”, and threatened to never correct his paperwork again if he tried to get him involved. Considering he was the only reason his paperwork ever got properly filled out now that Akaashi had transferred to the criminal courthouse, he reluctantly removed Kenma from his plans. He had left his weekly offerings to the clerks – a variety of girl scout cookies this time – and sulked back to the office to rework everything.

He had Hinata schedule the intervention-disguised-as-a-reunion on a Friday night at the end of the month – two days after Sakusa and Atsumu returned from their conveniently taken at the same time vacation.

Seriously, they weren’t being subtle.

Atsumu had agreed readily enough to attend, having his assistant schedule it in his calendar and even adding a few of his old teammates to Bokuto’s invite list. But Bokuto knew that the real challenge would be Sakusa, so he worked late for an entire week to prepare for the eventual conversation.

“I thought you that big car manufacturer case tomorrow?” Akaashi asked, pausing in laying out their takeout to peer at over Bokuto’s shoulder at the PowerPoint he was working on.

“Oh, I do.” He responded, contemplating between star wipe and dissolve for his slide transitions. What was he thinking – the answer was always star wipe.

Akaashi’s eyebrow twitched. “Then why are you working on a PowerPoint called ‘SAKUSA YOU SHOULD COME TO OUR REUNION: A Proposal by Bokuto Kotaro’?”

“I’m asking Sakusa to come to the reunion tomorrow.” He tilted his head and studied his pro/con list. Maybe the Comic Sans wasn’t the best idea. “Do think Sakusa prefers Century Schoolbook or Times New Roman?”

“I think,” Akaashi responded, pointedly moving Bokuto’s actual case files closer, “that you should preparing for your case tomorrow. You know, the one that’s going to trial after three years of prep work?”

Bokuto moved the files back to the edge of his desk to make room for his chipotle. “Why? The other attorney doesn’t know the difference between warning and design defect, and the judge is one misstep away from granting us a JMOL. Aw, damnit, they forgot the guac.”

Akaashi was slowly starting to turn red, and his right eyebrow was doing the weird twitching thing it did whenever some cocky intern tried to rush him during docket prep.

Bokuto finally turned around in his chair to face his boyfriend, taking one of his hands and kissing the back of it in the way that always made Akaashi blush. “And I already finished prepping. We ran the last mock trial yesterday and Meian looked over everything this morning. I even got Yachi to help me design my demos.”

The tension that had been building in Akaashi’s shoulders finally subsided, and he squeezed Bokuto’s hand slightly before turning back to his own meal. “Century Schoolbook. Sakusa strikes me as a Supreme Court rules kind of guy.”

Bokuto didn’t get to find out if Sakusa was a Century Schoolbook guy or not.

He’d woken up even earlier than he usually did on trial mornings, scrubbing twice in the shower and putting a freshly dry-cleaned suit. He even stole a tie from Akaashi to wear instead of the owl-printed one he usually preferred for important cases.

He idly reviewed his case files and organized his trial box while he waited – glancing at his watch every few minutes and mentally urging Sakusa to hurry up. He had to be at the courthouse at 9am sharp and it was already 7:50 – and the presentation really needed a full 30 minutes to reach max effectiveness.

Atsumu and Sakusa arrived together, as they had for the past 7 months - seriously, did they honestly think they were being subtle – at 8:03am. He heard Atsumu greet his legal assistant and waited for another five minutes to let Sakusa to settle in and stare blankly into his tea for a bit.

He wasn’t quite fully awake when Bokuto slipped into his office, and he seemed vaguely confused as to why the other attorney was there – although knowing how long it took Sakusa to regain coherency in the mornings it was possible he didn’t even recognize who Bokuto _was_ – but he didn’t have time to wait for the tea to work its magic.

Sakusa seemed to follow Bokuto through his opening pitch – impressive considering he’d once mistaken Hinata for a lost child during an early morning staff meeting – and was finally at full functioning capacity by the time he started setting up his presentation. He frowned, finally processing what he’d been listening to for the past twenty minutes, and interrupted Bokuto as he pulled up the first slide.

“That’s fine. Can you just put it on the shared google calendar? I’ll flag it.” Sakusa got up dismissively, wandering over to Atsumu’s office and lingering in the doorway.

“Hey, I’m out of tea. Go get me some.”

“Seriously? I asked ya last night if ya needed more, we have like twenty boxes at home.”

“Whatever. I want a London Fog.”

“Alright, fine. Ya want a bagel, too?”

“No.”

“I’m getting ya a bagel.”

Bokuto pouted and gathered up his flash drive. They could at least have the decency to _try_ and pretend they weren’t together.

He knew he should be happy – thrilled even – that Sakusa had agreed to come so readily. But he’d spent a lot of time on that PowerPoint and he was really proud of the way he’d managed to make it play Vitamin C’s Graduation when he started talking about the confirmed attendance list. It was enough to send him into his first emo mode in six months.

He’d trained himself to snap out of it fairly early on in his career – he kept getting held in contempt of court when he refused to stand for the judge or walk up to the bench for a sidebar and those fines were _expensive_ – but he normally had the help of his legal assistant. She was a kind, motherly woman in her late fifties who had been in courtrooms longer than Bokuto had been alive, and spent a solid year teaching him how to do his job. Even now she completely terrified him in a way no one else did.

But Makoto had been sick with the flu for the past week and Yachi – poor, innocent, summer intern Yachi – was filling in and had absolutely no clue what to do. Thankfully, Kenma had been assigned to the trial and wandered over to smack some sense into him before the judge came in and slapped him with a fine that would drain all the funds he had been putting aside to buy Akaashi a ring.

Kenma had neatly sidestepped Bokuto’s attempts at a hug and informed him he expected a whole apple pie from the expensive bakery down the street as tribute before returning to his seat.

So the morning hadn’t gone as expected, but the plan was still in motion.

Bokuto’s plan was simple:

Step 1: Get both of them at a bar with all their friends

Step 2: ???

Step 3: Atsumu and Sakusa confess they’re in a relationship

When he told Akaashi his boyfriend had the given him the _look_ – the one he gave him whenever he started going off script during cross examination or changed his case theory the morning of opening statements.

But he got that look from Akaashi at least once a week and he won most of his cases anyway so he powered through.

Step one was a roaring success. The intimate cocktail bar they’d chosen for the occasion was full to the rafters, attorneys and legal assistants and clerks and onigiri restaurant owners everywhere he turned. He had already tried Kuroo’s latest concoction (about five different liquors combined in a shot glass he had christened ‘the cold call’), performed a dramatic reenactment of the final scene from My Cousin Vinny with Hoshiumi, “accidentally” locked Kageyama and Hinata in the bathroom together, and convinced Akaashi and the rest of his old teammates to sing their alma mater’s fight song with him for his Instagram story. He was just excusing himself from a conversation with Ushijima and Kita that was quickly veering into a venting session when Sakusa and Atsumu arrived.

Atsumu wandered over to his old teammates while Sakusa joined Komori at the bar. Bokuto squeezed past a large group crowded around the bar’s only TV – it had been playing Law & Order episodes when they arrived and Oikawa had quickly recruited people to play a drinking game – and headed for Atsumu.

Before he could make it across the room, however, Atsumu hopped up onto a table and whistled sharply to gain everyone’s attention, ignoring the bartender’s indignant cries.

“Hey guys. I’ve gotta big announcement to make.” There were a few wolf whistles and he winked before continuing. “So I’m sure a lotta ya have noticed a change in the last few months – “

“It looks stupid.”

Atsumu glared at Osamu and ran a hand through his freshly died hair self-consciously before raising his voice over the laughter now filling the room. “ _Anyway,_ some of ya may have noticed that I’ve got someone new in my life – “

It was actually working. That was way easier than he expected it to be.

“And me and Omi have been real grateful for all yer well wishes.”

Bokuto glanced around to see a few people – Kita and Suna and Komori and Ushijima – raising their glasses in acknowledgement. The rest of the bar was in an uproar, furious whispers breaking out among the group with several people pulling out their phones to text others and take videos. Hinata was loudly questioning Sakusa at the bar while the other man attempted to hide behind Komori.

Atsumu raised his voice even louder as he continued, “So we just wanna thank Bokuto for throwing us this surprise engagement party, it was real sweet of ya man.”

Bokuto was passed around from person to person for the next thirty minutes for interrogation – Yes, he knew they were together. Yes, it was pretty obvious. No, he hadn’t seen the ring, he hadn’t even known they were engaged. That usually got them to back off long enough with a confused look that he was able to slip away, slowly making his way through the throng of well-wishers surrounding the happy couple.

Or not so happy. Sakusa looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. He was keeping his hands firmly in his pockets, glaring at anyone that asked to see his ring and offering absolutely no information about the proposal. Atsumu was flashing his hand at anyone who would look, obligingly reenacting the entire scene every few minutes.

When he finally got next to them Sakusa fixed him with a withering glare. “Why would you do this to me, Bokuto?”

“I didn’t really plan it as an engagement party.”

They both looked shocked. “But Akaashi said – “

That little traitor.

He laughed and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I didn’t know for sure, which is why I made it a reunion.”

Atsumu beamed at him. “Either way, thanks for putting it together. I know ya wanted to say something real bad, but we wanted to wait to tell everyone until we were sure it was for the long term, ya know?”

Sakusa took Atsumu’s hand and squeezed it, smiling softly.

Well now he felt kind of bad. “Ah, no worries. Congratulations by the way.”

He didn’t get a chance to talk about it with Akaashi until the next morning, both of them nursing cups of coffee and idly scrolling through the pictures people had posted from the previous night.

“Look at this,” Akaashi snorted, “someone dared Atsumu to serenade Sakusa after we left.” His phone speakers crackled before playing a clip of Atsumu singing a pitchy, but passable version of Toxic.

Bokuto laughed weakly and set down his coffee. “You knew they were getting engaged.”

“I did.” Akaashi agreed, “Sakusa told me he was planning on proposing when they went on vacation a few weeks ago. Turns out Atsumu had the same idea.”

Bokuto pouted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Akaashi pinned him with a knowing look, “Because they didn’t want anyone to know and you wouldn’t have been able to keep your mouth shut.”

He wanted to protest, to say he had kept their relationship secret for months now. But he knew just as well as Akaashi did that if they had given him confirmation he would’ve let it slip to somebody – and the engagement? The whole office would’ve known five minutes after he did.

He deflated slightly, “Thanks for telling them it was an engagement party.” He shook his head ruefully, “Guess you’re a better matchmaker than I am.”

Akaashi hummed in agreement and put his empty mug in the sink, kissing his cheek softly as he walked past him towards the bathroom.

Bokuto had just finished cleaning up the remains of their breakfast when the thought hit him.

He rushed into the bathroom and yanked back the shower curtain, ignoring Akaashi’s startled yelp. His boyfriend paused in scrubbing in his hair, taking in Bokuto’s eager face and the way he was bouncing lightly on his toes.

“What is it?” He asked warily.

“You can help me get Hinata and Kageyama together!”

Atsumu laughed uproariously as he toed off his running shoes, making his way towards the kitchen as he replied to Bokuto.

Kiyoomi glanced at him from his place on their couch, cocooned in their comforter and clutching a mug of tea, before pointedly turning up the volume on his movie.

He checked to make sure he wouldn’t be talking over one of fiancé’s favorite parts – he was in the clear – before speaking up. “Bokuto wants us to help him get Kageyama and Hinata together. Says Akaashi won’t do it.”

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, “Bokuto is always butting in where he doesn’t belong.” He eyed the bagel Atsumu was pulling out of his bag before making a grabby motion.

Atsumu obligingly plated it and slathered half their cream cheese tub on top before bringing it over, accepting the responding hum for the thank you it was. “But he means well. And ya have to admit it was nice of him to do that for us.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be an engagement party, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Atsumu shrugged, “but it was still nice that he cared enough to do something. Not to mention he actually noticed we were dating.” He frowned. “Ya’d think a bunch of lawyers would pick up on the hints we were givin ‘em. We weren’t exactly subtle.”

His fiancé grimaced. “Don’t remind me. I literally told Hinata I was going with you to visit your parents and he told me it was nice we were such good friends.”

Atsumu laughed before disappearing into their bedroom.

Kiyoomi could hear the shower start up and shifted to get more comfortable. The sun streaming in through the living room window reflected off his ring. He twisted the band idly, still not used to its constant presence. He could feel the grooves of the engraving against his skin, and he smiled to himself. He slipped the ring off his finer and listened closely for a moment to make sure he could still hear the water going – he didn’t need his fiancé to catch him doing something so sappy, he’d already given the man a lifetime’s worth of ammo.

Holding the ring up to the morning light he peered at the inside, smiling to himself as he re-read the familiar words etched into the metal.

_Res Ipsa Loquitur_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's officially a 3L???
> 
> It's me. Here's a fic that I ended up spending more of finals week on than my actual finals to celebrate.


End file.
